


Confined Spaces and Misunderstandings Do Not A Good Plan Make, Clint aka This Is Why Steve Is The Tactician

by LadyMerlin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Silences, Clint and Natasha are like badly trained puppies, Crushes, Did I mention fluff?, Fluff, Get Together, I have used cliches like they're going out of style, Interventions, Jarvis is a traitor, Jarvis is conspiring with Clint and Natasha, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pepper is a big influence on Tony, Pining, Sorry Not Sorry, Steve and Tony are trapped in an elevator, Steve is an idiot too, UST, also liberties, fade-to-black, steve/tony - Freeform, tony is an idiot, urban dictionary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An elevator, <strike>a spilled drink</strike> and a ripped shirt, some terrible misunderstandings, and a breakdown of wills. In which everyone's finally had enough of this UST bullshit, and Jarvis is a very, <i>very</i> useful ally. </p><p>This fic was written for the <a href="http://avland.livejournal.com/28105.html">Avland Holiday Exchange 2013</a> on LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confined Spaces and Misunderstandings Do Not A Good Plan Make, Clint aka This Is Why Steve Is The Tactician

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotrangel17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrangel17/gifts).



Steve would have liked to have said that the awkward silence came from being trapped in an elevator with a man who didn’t like him. It would have been a lie, though, and he was hardly in the habit of lying to himself. Truth was, he and Stark could hardly be alone, anywhere, without being plagued by the awkward silence. The awkward silence followed him and Stark around. It was a curse (Thor help them).

A normal elevator would have ground to a halt – stuff would have been noisy and rickety and it’d have been obvious. But because Stark had built it, it took Steve a minute to realise that they weren’t moving anymore, and only because the light had stopped blinking as they climbed.

Stark didn’t seem to notice, engrossed in his phone. Or possibly Clint’s phone. He was pretty sure Stark was allergic to iPhones, so definitely Clint’s phone. The archer was going to be pissed. Another awkward moment passed, and it was becoming increasingly possible that he was the only one who was noticing these silences. That would be just his luck.

“Stark,” he said, when the silence was escalating into a buzz in his head.

“Hm?” the other man asked, looking up from the device for the first time. Steve wanted to grab the thing from his hand and throw it out of a window. Stark seemed to provoke that response a lot. He probably would have done it, if they hadn’t been in a metal box suspended in the air by Thor-knows-what.

“We’re not moving.”

Stark’s eyes sharpened and for a moment, Steve could see why this man was on the list of the most dangerous men in the country, scientific genius aside. He glanced up at the stagnant glass display above the metal doors, and slipped the phone into his pocket. “Jarvis?” he asked, crossing his arms. Steve wondered if Jarvis had cameras in the elevator too, because that would make a lot of sense. Stark looked like nothing more than a disappointed and concerned parent.

There was a beat of silence, and then, “Sir?”

Stark stilled. Steve hadn’t noticed he’d even been moving, but even with his arms crossed in disapproval, he’d been tapping his fingers and his feet and shifting his weight slightly. It was one of the things he’d noticed about Stark. He never stood still unless he was stressed, or angry. When he was at ease he was constantly fidgeting. At first, he’d thought it had been for his benefit that Stark was only doing it where Steve could see him from the corners of his eyes. But then he’d seen Stark around Ms. Potts, and it had been like seeing a puppy let off his leash, a constant bundle of energy and movement. It would have been endearing, if Stark hadn’t opened his mouth and ruined the impression.

A small part of Steve reminded him that he was being uncharitable, but in his own defence, he didn’t like small, enclosed spaces. He could handle them, sure. But he didn’t like them.

“Don’t ‘Sir’ me, Jay. What the fuck?”

Jarvis sighed, and Steve marvelled at the creation that could display emotions independently of his owner. Jarvis was truly amazing. “Sir, Agent Romanoff wishes to speak with you.”

“What the fuck, _Natalie_ ,” Stark demanded, angry now, still and steady and dangerous. Steve felt himself go into battle mode, more instinctively than intentionally. It took a lot for Stark to express anger. Steve had a suspicion that he, like Bruce, was always peripherally angry, but it took truly monumental things for him to focus enough to get properly angry, and to express it. It was never a good thing, and Steve could trust that, if nothing else.

“Hello to you too, _Anthony_ ,” she replied, cool as a cucumber. Stark flinched, visibly, and Steve wished he had his shield with him. What on earth was going on?

“Agent Romanoff, status report,” he said, stepping in, because this was uncharacteristic behaviour. Natasha was an incredibly reliable operative, and Stark’s discomfort, and _his_ were obvious, especially if Jarvis had cameras on them. They were definitely up to something, and Steve had a weird sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Relax, Cap,” Clint piped in. “All’s well, promise. We’re just staging an intervention.”

It must have meant something to Stark, because he exhaled dramatically and pinched the bridge of his nose with calloused fingertips. Another pop-culture reference that he didn’t get, probably, and it did nothing but infuriate him.

“Jarvis,” Stark started again, and he was interrupted.

“I am sorry, Sir, I am in agreement with Agent Romanoff. This situation has reached new heights of absurdity, and I am in favour of this intervention.”

“I am going to put Dummy in charge of you for a _year_ ,” Stark snapped, and he uncrossed his hands, and then crossed them again, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “And for the rest of you, you can get your bags packed and get the fuck out of my tower. Seriously, _out_.”

“You don’t mean that, Tony,” Clint said, and he was _definitely smirking_ , “you love us, really.”

Natasha snorted, “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it Tony?” and there was a sound like the two of them were high-fiving. He was seriously going to recommend that Fury remove them from the team.

“Fuck you,” Stark snarled, and Steve genuinely wished he had his shield there. He hadn’t seen Stark so angry in… well, a long time. “Jarvis, you _traitor_ , security protocols, shut down the cameras in this lift until I reactivate them. Also initiate a complete lock-down of the tower. Override Alpha initiated, respond only to my voice.” He smirked as Clint yelped. “You’re going to be stuck where-ever you are as long as we’re stuck here. I hope you have some food with you, _assholes,_ ”he said, triumphant and angry at the same time. There was a distinct click and their communication was cut, because Steve could no longer hear Clint swearing a blue streak in the background.

There was another moment of terrible stillness, and then Stark relaxed, deliberately, shaking loose his shoulders and shucking his jacket. Steve watched him, silent, before finally admitting, “I have no idea what just happened there.”

Stark snorted and Steve braced himself for another barrage of insults, but what came from his mouth was relatively tame. “Not surprising, Cap. The wonder twins up there are fucking crazy, that’s what happened. They’re seeing things. They should be shut away for their own good.”

Steve waited, and then followed suit, sitting cross legged on the floor of the lift, next to Stark, who’d stretched his legs out, not creasing the line of his expensive trousers. Steve liked to keep his stuff in good order, but he was wearing his comfy jeans (and it was amazing that he had more than one of anything) and it was probably a good thing because Stark seemed to have settled down for the long haul.

“So what were they talking about? I don’t know why they’ve locked us in here,” he tried again, because Stark hadn’t exactly given him a straight answer the last time he’d asked.

Stark sighed, but it didn’t seem to be directed at him. “They want us to make nice, Cap. They think we don’t like each other.”

Another beat of silence, the kind that seemed to characterise all their interactions and Stark started looking at ~~his~~ Clint’s phone again. He was holding out another phone to Steve, and he accepted it, even though he didn’t know what to do with it. It seemed to be Stark’s way of being nice to him, and Steve wasn’t going to discourage that kind of behaviour.

“It’s fully pre-loaded with games, so have fun Cap. We’ll only be here till Bruce gets back. He’ll knock some sense into the wonder-twins.”

Steve fiddled with the phone a little, unlocking it and then locking it again, feeling as if he was under intense scrutiny even though Stark seemed to be completely engrossed in his own phone. Maybe that was Stark’s super power. Maybe Stark had two sets of eyes, one made of flesh and one robotic. Steve wondered how he’d draw that, how it would look on paper. Whether it would be terrifyingly realistic, or just as absurd as it sounded in his head.

He traced the keys of the phone in silence, not doing anything, and just observing the weight of Stark’s gaze on him, wherever it came from. The words slipped from his mouth because they were on his tongue, and he wasn’t paying attention to himself. “But you don’t like me, do you.”

It wasn’t a question, and the quality of silence in the room changed.

“ _What_?”

He regretted it the moment he’d said it. “Forget I said that, sorry Stark, didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, no,” Stark said, swiping the phone from his hands in a gesture that was almost startlingly Pott-esque. “You don’t get to say things like that and then take them back. Why would you even say that?” he demanded, sounding genuinely upset, and confused.

Steve was still smiling at the way he’d snatched the phone. “Ms. Potts used to do that to you, didn’t she?” he asked, distracted.

Stark paused, considered the statement, and the flushed like Steve had never seen him flush before. It was surprisingly attractive, under his dusky skin and his endearingly fussy little goatee. “No,” he said, petulantly, when it was clear that the truth was the exact opposite. Steve snorted.

“And _ha!_ As if your plebeian distraction would be enough to change the topic! I am the _King_ of avoiding questions, and you’re just not good enough to evade mine, sorry.” Stark didn’t sound sorry at all. “Why would you think that, Cap?”

Steve shrugged. He hated this elevator. He was going to rappel up the sides of Stark Tower next time, see what Stark thought of _that_ avoidance technique. He’d have to pick up some tips from Spiderman. “There’s no reason for you to like me. I don’t mind. You’re kind to me anyway, which is more than what most people can claim.” Stark’s mouth was wide open. “I know better than to think everyone loves me, Stark. Don’t worry about it.”

Steve thought he’d been fairly composed throughout that little speech, but it had needed to be said. Maybe this is what Clint and Natasha had meant, when they said ‘intervention’. Probably. Stark spluttered like an oil fire.

“Cap, you’re an _idiot_.”

Steve rolled his eyes. At least this was familiar ground. He already knew this stuff.

“Why would I be kind to you if I didn’t like you? I’m not _you_ , for fucks sake, I don’t care about people I don’t like!”

That was actually reassuringly Stark-ish. Also familiar ground. But still, surprisingly nice. Key word: Surprising. “But then why do you leave the room when I’m in it? Why do you never have dinner with the team? Why are you always… Come on Stark. You don’t like me, and that’s okay. Maybe the sooner we admit it, the sooner we can get out of here.”

Stark fell silent. It was an awkward silence, and Steve didn’t look at him. “I leave because _you_ don’t like me.”

Steve choked on his own saliva, and coughed for a few seconds. “ _What_?”

Stark rolled his eyes. “You don’t even call me by my first name, Cap. That’s like, _numero uno_ when it comes to making friends, right? I’m trying to be nice, but I am who I am. I swear too much, I work more than is good for me, and I basically haven’t been socialised, but I’m trying. But you get awkward when I’m in a room, and you’re really quiet even though Clint says that normally you won’t shut up. I like you just fine. I was leaving so you’d be more comfortable.”

Steve wasn’t sure he was hearing what Stark was actually saying, maybe the words were a product of Steve’s own imagination. “I don’t call you by your first name, because you never asked me to. It’s polite to wait. You asked Bruce to call you Tony on our first mission, and you know Natasha and Clint from before, but you’ve never asked me to call you Tony, so I didn’t. I didn’t want to assume.”

“You’re an idiot, Cap. Bruce is scared of his own shadow, and no, I didn’t know Natasha and Clint from before. I knew _Natalie_ and not Clint, at all, and they just assumed, because we’re on a team. It’s a different set of manners, Cap. I was pretty sure you calling me Stark was a sign that we were nothing but work mates and colleagues. I learned how to handle that, and now you’re telling me that you thought it was the other way around?” he demanded, turning his torso to face Steve for the first time in this horrifically awkward conversation.

“This is probably why they staged an intervention,” Steve offered, after a minute of furious blushing on his part.

Sta-Tony rolled his eyes. “Ya think.” And before Steve had a chance to respond, “and please remember that my first language is sarcasm and bitchiness and there’s absolutely nothing anyone can do about it, so don’t take it personally. If I’m not bitching, assume something’s wrong, or there’s a press conference.”

“Speaking of which, we should hold a press conference of our own, to announce Hawkeye and the Black Widow’s removal from the Avengers,” Steve said, because he was going to make it happen, hand to Thor.

Tony grinned, a bright flash of teeth. He really did have a million dollar smile. “I don’t know,” he said, “I’m wondering if we should buy them a gift basket.” Steve was a big enough man to admit that it sounded like a good idea.

Steve grinned back, and leaned against the wall of the elevator. He wouldn’t be able to stretch out his feet if he tried. Tony rolled his eyes as if he was reading Steve’s mind. “Fucking tall people.” Steve smirked, because he’d sounded exactly like Bucky, then. It was endearing.

Another five minutes passed. “Why exactly are we still in here, Jay?” Tony finally asked. Steve didn’t mind too much. He didn’t have much to do, and the silence was much more bearable now. Tony probably had SI stuff to handle, and other things to do, so he could understand why the man was getting antsy.

“Sir, if I may speak,” Jarvis started, and Tony rolled his eyes _again_ , making Steve laugh at their interactions, “it is because this intervention will not be complete until everything is in the open. Agents Romanoff and Barton have both agreed that your… condition, is increasingly detrimental to the team dynamic. In Agent Barton’s words, you’ll be surprised with what you hear, bitch.”

Tony opened his mouth, and then closed it again. “Jarvis?”

“Sir?” Jarvis responded.

“If you ever quote Barton to me again, I’ll dismantle your personality programming, don’t think I won’t.”

“I wouldn’t dream of subverting Sir,” Jarvis said, in a suddenly deferential tone. It was startling until Steve realised that Jarvis was being sarcastic.

“And those two had better be out of my tower Jay, because there are going to be words when I get out.”

“I’m afraid that the only way I would be able to get their attention would be to spray them with water, like recalcitrant pets. Unfortunately I have greater self-preservation instincts than my maker, and would like to politely refuse this order.”

“Politely refuse this order my ass, Jay. Are they fucking?”

Steve must have made a sound of shock, because Tony glanced at him, then grinned, but it wasn’t cruel. “Yeah, those two and Agent Agent are in a very kinky threeway relationship, don’t know how it works but it’s been going on for a while.” Steve gaped.

“No, sir, they are fighting. They’ve managed to break that vase in the living room.”

“Thank fuck for that, that vase refused to die. Every time I got rid of it, it turned up again, because Pepper loves that thing. Ugly as sin and she put it in my living room.”

Steve couldn’t help it – he laughed. The two of them were a perfect pair, Stark- _Tony_ and Jarvis. Tony flashed another grin at him, and he looked honestly delighted. Steve wasn’t sure why, but he maybe had the feeling that Tony liked making people laugh. Bucky had told him once, that making someone laugh was the first sign that you understood them. Tony reminded him of Bucky, a lot.

Tony and Jarvis fell silent, after bickering a little bit more. Tony looked at Steve thoughtfully, which Steve wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been studying Tony himself.

“What do you think they want us to discuss, now that we’ve cleared up that misunderstanding?” Steve asked, and interestingly enough, Tony grimaced. It was a full-fledged wince, and he broke eye contact.

“I know what they’re trying to do, Steve-o, but they’ve got some ideas in their heads and I haven’t been able to convince them that they’re insane.”

“It generally is quite difficult to convince the insane of their status, sir,” Jarvis piped in, and Tony scowled at the ceiling, and Steve got the impression that this was a very old argument. “After all, Sir himself has been accused of much worse than insanity in his life, by a wide variety of people.” Steve was reasonably sure Jarvis was talking to _him_ now. He’d never stop being amazed at Jarvis.

“Well, Mr. Jarvis,” he said, ignoring Tony’s wheeze, his mother had raised him to be polite, thank you, “you don’t have to tell me that twice. I believe it.” He wanted to say something about Tony doing two impossible things before breakfast, and how anyone so amazing would be seen as insane, and that it didn’t mean anything, but he was sure that would be giving away too much. He had to be careful.

He’d always had an appreciation for Tony’s physical form, both with the eye of an artist and the eye of a man, who liked the idea of power being so very compact. He’d always had an appreciation for Tony’s mind. It was mind-boggling. And they’d already moved from whatever-it-had-been, to friends, in the space of 15 very awkward minutes. It was more than enough for an afternoon. He couldn’t afford to tell the international playboy that Steve wanted to know how he tasted.

Tony looked mock-outraged, but he was smiling at Steve, gently, as if he’d known that there was no malice in his statement. Thank god for that; he liked this Tony, who didn’t shy from him for absurd reasons. This Tony was warm like a summers’ day, and golden, and shining. This Tony made eye-contact. He liked it. He’d take it.

The comm crackled on, which in itself was unexpected, because nothing designed or created by Tony would every do anything as undignified as _crackle_. Tony was studying the ceiling carefully, no doubt analysing exactly what was wrong.

“Stark,” Clint crackled over the speakerphone, panting slightly. Steve didn’t want to know what it meant, but he had some ideas, and they weren’t nice ones. “Tell him, or I will.”

“Fuck you Barton,” Tony snarled, vicious and angry again, completely different from the Tony he’d liked so much just minutes ago. “This is not your business, you don’t know what you’re fucking with!”

Steve didn’t think he’d ever heard Tony this angry. Clearly, neither had Clint or Natasha.

“Sorry Stark, it has to be done. The UST is getting in the way of team dynamics. It’s interfering with our field performance and it’s come to Fury’s attention. This isn’t how we would have liked this to happen, but we’re working on a deadline and it’s the best we could do. Just sort it out. I think it won’t be as bad as you think it will.”

Tony clearly understood everything Natasha was saying, but Steve had no idea what was going on, and he never liked that feeling. He still had the phone in his hand, and the little fan symbol told him that he had full internet access. So he pulled up google with one touch, and typed in the words ‘UST’, because that seemed to be the easiest thing to start with. Someone out there had to know what it meant.

In retrospect, it had probably been a bad idea to search something on the internet without Jarvis’ supervision. He was assaulted with hundreds of thousands of results, some of universities and some on a site called urban-dictionary, and most on other websites he’d never heard of. Urban dictionary was something Barton referred to, often. That was more likely to be the one Natasha had been referring to, as well.

 _Unrequited Sexual Tension,_ it read.

Used primarily in fanfiction (he made another note to google that, for better or for worse), to reference a sexual tension which has not been openly discussed between two characters. For example in an RPF (another note to google) context, “ _The UST between Captain America and Iron Man is un_ believable _! Just look at the eye-sex!”_

He froze.

Tony was still hissing at Natasha over the speaker phone. Steve’s heart was pounding in his chest, and his vision swam just a little. He was beyond terrified, because this meant Natasha knew, and Tony knew, and Clint knew, and Jarvis knew, and—

He had been chosen to become Captain America, because he could be brave. He knew this. They could have chosen any man, and they chose him because he ran towards a grenade instead of away from it, because he was scared, but he was more worried for his friends than scared. He could be brave in the face of  bombs and guns and monsters, and still he knew that being brave in the face of the truth was the most difficult thing. But he had to do it. Because he was putting everyone in the field at risk. Because he’d been a coward.

“Jarvis, please cut the connection and do not re-open it until either Tony or myself requests it,” he said, hearing his voice as if from a great distance.

Tony turned to look at him, and then his gaze caught on the phone, and he grabbed it and paled when he saw what was on the screen. Steve felt like he was burning in shame and embarrassment, even as the connection clicked shut without further ado.

“I’m sorry,” they both blurted, simultaneously. In any other circumstance, that would have been it, but it wasn’t enough, here. Steve continued, even as Tony’s hands clenched into fists by his side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I’ll move out, if you want me to. I’m so sorry, Tony.”

Tony looked devastated, which Steve didn’t understand. “I’m sorry, too. I’m—Please don’t leave unless you really want to. If you do, I’ve got plenty more properties around New York and they’re more likely to be more comfortable than anything SHIELD can provide. But please don’t leave. I’ll stay away from you. I’d never—” Here, Tony took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’d never take advantage of you, or demand anything from you, you know that right? I’m a big fan of consent and I swear, Steve, you are safe here, from everyone, myself included. I would never presume—”

He opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds, as if he was trying to collect himself, but Steve didn’t understand. He didn’t get what was going on, and _god_ , this feeling was getting old, really fast.

“Tony, _what_?” he asked, before the other man could start up again. “What are you _talking_ about? You should be _demanding_ that I leave! If anything, I’m the one who should be promising—” And then something occurred to him, and things clicked into place, his heart buoyed by hope.

“What’s going on here, Tony?” he asked, suddenly a lot calmer than he’d felt seconds before. “I like you. Very much. It’s embarrassing and awkward and horrible because I didn’t know that you even cared for me as a friend until today. Why are you not telling me to leave? I know what I’m sorry for, but what do you have to be sorry for?” he asked, trying to make sense.

Tony gaped a little more, and then his jaw clicked shut. “You like me?” and of course, that’s what he’d have focused on. “You,” he said, suddenly shifting forward onto his knees, in a way that would probably crease his pants beyond repair, “like _me_ ,” he said, and it was a statement _and_ a question, as if he could believe that it ended with that particular preposition. A statement imbued with wonder.

He was moving closer to Steve, as if he couldn’t help it, and every inch of Steve’s skin was prickling in anticipation because there were only two ways this could go now and he knew which one he preferred but he didn’t dare to hope, he didn’t dare to believe that it could even be true.

The elevator wasn’t that big to start with, and it hardly took any time at all for Tony to be in Steve’s space, physically breathing in the same air that Steve was breathing out. Tony’s mouth was inches away from his own, and Steve had locked into eye-contact, until his gaze flickered at Tony’s lips, and then he couldn’t look away from them either.

“I really do,” he started to say, but Tony moved at the exact same moment and he ended up pressing his lips to Steve’s open mouth, and it was at the same time incredibly funny and incredibly arousing, because Tony adapted very quickly and his tongue was deft and warm and coffee-flavoured and it was _perfect_ , even though Tony was on his knees on an elevator floor next to Steve and their noses were bumping and they didn’t know quite what to do with their limbs. He physically could not bring himself to stop kissing Tony.

Tony managed though, and it felt like a surgical separation. He didn’t go very far, just rearranging himself so his right knee was between Steve’s thighs. He bent down for another kiss, and Steve reached into it, knowing they should probably talk, but this was too good to be true – something straight out of his dreams. Tony was a generous kisser, deep and thorough and achingly sweet, like he was taking care of Steve. It wasn’t long before Steve was straining for more, and it felt like the temperature in the elevator had gone up by ten degrees. Tony had shed his coat in between increasingly filthy kisses, and cast it carelessly on the floor.

Tony shuffled so he was straddling Steve, and lowered himself so he could make eye-contact with him. “Hey,” he said, pressing his body close to Steve’s.

“Hey,” Steve said, voice infinitely shakier than Tony’s.

“So that happened,” Tony started, and Steve had observed the other man long enough to know that his thinking face was on, and that this was what he looked like when he was reconsidering something. Normally that would have been enough to make Steve stop, and not push for more, but there was no way those kisses had meant nothing.

“Stop,” Steve started. “Stop thinking, Tony. I really like you. This isn’t pity or obligation or whatever you’re thinking. I like you a lot. You’re brilliant, and kind, and you look after me when you think I’m not paying attention. I’m incredibly attracted to you. You can’t pull back now.”

Tony snorted a little, inelegantly, and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to Steve’s. “Alright then. I like you too. I like you a lot. You’re a good man, and a great leader, and you’re funny and you’re so fast, I can’t believe you sometimes. You make me want to be a better person, and you look like a swimsuit model.”

Steve blushed, and Tony kissed the heated skin down his neck, as far down as he could go with Steve’s t-shirt still in place. “You have to remember though, that I’m not easy to get along with. I can’t remember birthdays or anniversaries and you might not see me for days when I’m having an engineering blackout. When I don’t have to go out, I don’t take care of myself. I’m not a nice—”

“I think you’re perfect as you are.”

Tony snorted again. “You’re delusional, but that’s good for me.”

Steve couldn’t help it; Tony spoke like that was the end of the discussion, like nothing Steve said mattered in the issue, because he didn’t believe it. In another life, he’d have argued. He’d have used his words, and he’d probably have failed, because he was good but Tony was better, raised from birth to wield his tongue like a weapon. But he was sitting in a lift with Tony Stark and his hands were on the other man’s hips, and maybe this time he didn’t have to use his words.

He tightened his grip, watching Tony for a reaction, and when his pupils dilated, Steve took it as the sign that it was, and kissed the man. He moved one hand to the back of Tony’s head to deepen the kiss, even though it meant moving from Tony’s hips, but it didn’t feel like he was going anywhere, pressed as he was into Steve’s own body.

It was like falling and flying all at the same time, like the floor was moving away from under his feet even though Tony was keeping him grounded. The tiny space was silent except for the sounds of their panting, hearts pounding furiously in the stillness. They were both aroused, underneath their clothes, but there was no pretending otherwise, so Steve didn’t bother to be ashamed, because Tony definitely didn’t look worried. He looked perfectly at ease, as a matter of fact, and it was contagious, because Steve could feel himself relaxing into it, and smiling back at the other man.

“So, you like me.”

The sentence fell out of nowhere, and for a split second Steve panicked, because what else could this have possibly meant? But he looked at Tony, and the twinkle in his eye, and the way his fingers were tracing nonsense patterns into the nape of Steve’s neck, and decided to trust his gut.

“And you like me.”

“Very much,” Tony responded, grinning widely.

The lift jerked into motion, and Steve was sure that the sudden movement had been for their benefit. No machine built by Tony Stark would be anything but smooth, and this time, unlike every other time he’d thought this, he said it out loud. Tony smiled warm and wide, and Steve finally understood that the reason he’d woken up in this century was to make Tony smile, no matter what SHIELD or the others had to say about it.

All they had to say about the matter (much, _much_ ) later, was that thank god Jarvis had the sense to take them to Tony’s private, _inaccessible_ floors. 


End file.
